Monday, April 1, 2013

The thoughts of the victim

SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Before reading further read this, then this.

Read them both?

Ok, here you go.

I curl into a ball, hugging my knees close to me and hoping
he won’t come near me. The pain in my
arm has been replaced by a throbbing ache that seems to have no intention of
leaving anytime soon. Why has he brought
me here? Was he actually trying to take
me? Or did I really spoiled his plans to
take my lover?

He kneels beside me, removing the scrap of cloth tied over
my mouth. “I’m not going to hurt
you.

Liar. I spit in his
face, the only act of defiance I can muster.

I mean it,” he says, as though he can’t understand why I don’t
believe him. He bumps my arm and I
grimace, gingerly pulling away. I see
his gaze lower to my injury, and his expression changes to one of guilt. Serves the man right. Our last king was a good man, but I fear his
mind grew weak in his age. No sane
person would name this man successor to the throne. “That was an
accident,” he says. “I didn't mean for it to happen.” Now he’s trying to excuse himself? He couldn't be a strong ruler, not if he can’t
support his own actions. Not to mention
the way he’s treated me. No man who would treat any woman, rebel or no, in this
manner can be trusted with the ruling of our kingdom. He should have let me go when I tried to
run. He can’t cover this forever, and
when it comes to light every man and woman with even a shred of honor will rise
to support our cause. Nothing can stop
us now.

“I’ll let you go if you cooperate. I promise.”
He voice yanks me out of my musings.
As though his promises could ever mean a thing. But as he walks away I
gather enough courage to ask the question I’m dying to ask, the one thing I
must know.

“What do you want with me?”
The sound of my own voice startles me, scratched and fearful, and
certainly not the strong voice I used to rally the people.

He is quiet for a moment before he finally answers in a
voice devoid of emotion. “I want nothing
with you but to have you off my hands.
You weren’t a part of my plan.”

Then I’m right. I got
in his way; I stopped him from taking his intended prisoner. Good.
That means that my fiancé, our leader and true king, is alive.

He returns to me, this time pulling my hands behind my back
and tying them tightly. I close my eyes
and lean against the wall. I’m finished
fighting him. If he kills me, word of it
will reach the others and they’ll use my death to rally the kingdom. There’s nothing else I can do now anyway.

I hear his footsteps moving away from me. I lift me eyelids just enough to see him
slipping away into a shadowy corner. Why
is he doing that? What is he going to
do? I shut my eyes again, resigned to
the knowledge that there’s nothing I can do.

I hear the door creak, but I don’t open my eyes. I don’t care what he does anymore. And there’s no point in trying to run
anymore; I could never get out of this cave without being caught.

Suddenly I feel one of the strong, beautiful hands I know so
well stroke my cheek while the other pulls me close. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is that
pair of loving eyes, clear and blue, reflecting the dim light of the torch on
the wall. My lover, my rebel, my hero,
my king has come to rescue me.

A thousand thoughts rush through my mind in an instant, but
only one forms into words. “You
shouldn't have come.

He reaches for the cords around my wrist and unties
them. “It’s ok. You’re going to be alright.”

“No, leave me,” I say, the urgency I feel not quite present
in my voice. “Leave now while you still
can.”

Then I see it: the twisted, evil knife held high by my
kidnapper. “You don’t know what you’re
saying.” My hero’s words barely register
in my mind. Now I understand it all: I
am not the one he wants; I’m the bait.
But he won’t take my lover, not while I’m living. My hero leans over me, and I can see in his
eyes what even he is not yet aware of: he’s going to kiss me. He doesn't even know how desperate he is for
our lips to meet, for that reassurance that it’s going to be ok. But I can’t give it to him to him. I won’t kiss him, won’t stand beside him. I won’t be his fellow rebel leader. I won’t be his queen. There’s only one thing I can give my brave
warrior now.

Steel soars through the air as I kick him away from me: my
one last act of defiance. This is my
ultimate rebellion: to die, to take the attack meant for the man who must
live. In an instant I see the horror,
anger, and pain in the eyes of both men in the room. Then the pain in my side registers in my
mind. I feel the poison on the blade
enter my blood, and I no longer have even the strength to scream.

This is the third version of the scene I wrote, this time (obviously) from the POV of the girl. I don't like this one nearly as much as the other two, but once I wrote it I had to post it to complete the trio. I wrote this mainly because I had to know what she was thinking while it was going on.

What do you think of this one? What about the present tense viewpoint? Which of the three is your favorite? And (here's the big question) DOES SHE DIE?????? (btw, I finally know the answer, but I'm not telling. hehe!)

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About Me

Hi! I'm Emma. I'm 16 years old, and I'm a knitter and writer. I love to write fantasy and poetry, and I'm currently working on a fantasy trilogy. I've been knitting for over 7 years now, and I've started designing my own patterns. Last year I finished my first successful designing project: my very own knitted nativity.